


The Skull and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by sharknana29



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: F/M, Gen, garden party gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharknana29/pseuds/sharknana29
Summary: A fic focused on the Skull's experiences during a day at 35 Portland Row.
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	The Skull and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkullInAJar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkullInAJar/gifts).



“ _ Oh, sure, you’ll tell  _ me _ to shut up, but when that crazy bat wants to talk you’re all for it _ .” 

Lucy felt the reassuring grin plastered on her face slip at the grating sound of the Skull’s voice. If there was a way for her to telepathically tell him to shut up, she’d have loved to know about it. This Type 2 was not going to be overly pleased about being interrupted.

After a glance towards the others- Lockwood and Holly- Lucy turned to where her supply bag was thrown unceremoniously inside of an iron circle. A strong green glow leaked out of the bag, fighting off the murky ghost-fog from the other powerful ghost. Through gritted teeth, Lucy gave the Skull a less-than-polite warning before returning to the job at hand. Holly had used a ghost ward to back the Type Two into a corner and Lockwood had a salt bomb at the ready if things went south with the Carlyle Method, which at this point had a less-than-perfect success rate. 

The Skull had dimmed his other-worldly light, which meant he was either pouting or off plotting some way out of the jar. Neither occurrence meant good things, but Lucy needed to concentrate. The ghost, which had taken on the gruesome form of something pretending to be a young lady, was trying to lash out at the others. They had begun to retreat, while Lucy had stood there like a half-decayed scarecrow. She raised her rapier and slowly started backing away. “My name is Lucy Carlyle. I am here to help you. Where is your Source?”

“You and Holly dropped me off a landing, Lockwood. I need more than sleep.” Lucy’s tired eyes bored a hole in his general direction. She dug around the bottom of the fridge in search of an ice pack to put on any one of her numerous bruises. 

“I got hit on the back of the head by the thickest chains we had! That changer shouldn’t have even been there.”

“We might have been able to get out of there if  _ someone _ ,” she glared at the Skull, “had mentioned the other ghost before it had shown up.”

In his jar, the Skull feigned offence. “ _ Don’t look to pass the blame on to me. You maggots can take all the credit for this one _ .”

Lucy groaned. “Just once, could you just shut it?”

“ _ Never _ .” The look on his spectral face was oh-so-happy about the headache Lucy was developing.

The Skull had been left on the thinking cloth after breakfast the next morning, the case’s first Source tossed next to his jar, unfortunately for him. Despite the ghost not being able to appear during the day, she was being quite the pain on the Other Side. Her screams of betrayal and rage were irritating enough, but combined with the noises his living companions were making, he might as well have been caught between two rival banshees. 

Lucy had been drawing a flower when Holly walked in. She started gushing over the doodle, complaining about how she could never make anything look that nice. The Skull made a rude remark about a seagull defending a ham sandwich on the beach. Lucy’s reaction to his comment brought George in, looking rather unphased by the flower. He then decided this was the opportune moment to start a new experiment on the Sources that were decorating the table. 

“George, should we really be taking that out of the box?”

He waved a hand at Holly dismissively, telling her it would be fine. And for the most part, it would be. 

Until Lockwood came through the secret door in the cabinets. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, tie abandoned somewhere for Holly to find later on. George had managed to begin examining the purse’s reaction to heat before Lockwood noticed. 

Lucy finished the flower with a quick signature, rising soon after to grab a plate of biscuits to take down to the basement. She mumbled an excuse about having to do paperwork and began to walk away. 

“ _Don’t leave me with the mad scientist_ ,” the Skull howled, and after a moment of deliberation, Lucy reached across the table to take his jar with her into their small office.

“You are  _ disgusting _ ! Where did you even learn that?”

The spectral face behind the glass seemed exceptionally proud of itself. It had just shown Lucy something she won’t soon forget, drawing her attention away from the plate of biscuits on her desk. “ _ Yorkshire fishwives have a way with words, you know _ .”

She rolled her eyes and returned to the paperwork she had been trying- and failing- to focus on for the past while. The Skull took note that she didn’t shut his vent and took it as an invitation to continue. But then, a true distraction walked into the room, stealing all the wind from his sails. 

Anthony Lockwood was still missing his infamous jacket, which meant he was going to be spending the next few hours in the practice room, burning off his frustrations from last night’s case. It also meant that Lucy would  _ conveniently _ find a way to spend those hours in the basement, ogling him. And the worst part about that was Lucy’s complete obliviousness to her actions. 

But today seemed to be going differently. After a moment- or was it more? Time passed strangely in this jar- Lucy tossed her pen aside and rose to join him. She picked up a spare rapier and advanced on Floating Joe, Lockwood already laying in an attack on Lady Esmeralda. A decent amount of time passed, the pair waving their swords around wildly, before eventually they began sparring. 

They continued on like that for far too long, in the Skull’s opinion. They were talking all the while, but he would rather pass on than hear their tiresome banter. As such, he faded away a bit, just enough to not be subjected to it. 

He could still see through the silver-glass, however, and soon after he had tuned out of their conversation, he saw something truly horrifying. Lucy and Lockwood, they were- No, it couldn’t be. They had engaged in mouth-to-mouth fisticuffs, surely. There was no way either of those emotionally constipated fools were actually  _ kissing _ , was there? Disgusting. And he planned full well to let Lucy know exactly how he felt about what he had seen


End file.
